


Before And After

by purpleyedemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Marauders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleyedemon/pseuds/purpleyedemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of each of the four marauders before and after that fateful Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before And After

**Author's Note:**

> I know this has been done a million times. But I did it again. Because I can.
> 
> More migrating things from my LJ. This was written about a year and a half ago.

June 1978

Gryffindor Common Room

 

“Progress!” James flopped over the back of the couch. “Evans smiled at me today. I knew it could only be so much longer before she realized just how much she loves me.” His smile could very well have blinded his three best friends, had any of them actually been paying attention. He propped his chin in his hand and his elbow against the back of the couch, continuing to think aloud. “Next thing you know, she’ll be speaking to me without insulting me, then before you know it, she’s going to realize she loves me. I can already hear it…”

 

Sirius could hear James babbling – probably about Evans again. Merlin only knew what his best mate had said to the poor girl this time – but he couldn’t be arsed to pay attention. No, he was perfectly happy just the way he was. Sprawled out on his back on the couch in the common room, half asleep with his head in Moony’s lap. He was going to do everything possible to stay just like this for as long as he could. To keep that warm, snuggly feeling that always settled into his chest when he lay like this with Moony. To keep the slightly tickling sensation of Moony’s hand in his hair. To keep the warmth of the Common Room fire and the bustling and shuffling and murmuring of studying underclassmen that was slowly lulling him to sleep.

 

Remus was too far off in his own world to even notice that James had shown up. As per usual, he was focused solely on the contrast between pale, scarred skin and smooth, black silk as he combed his fingers through Sirius’ hair. _This is my favorite thing about Sirius_ , he decided, allowing the smallest of smiles to cross his face. _This gorgeous, perfectly styled hair that no one else is allowed to go anywhere near, and the fact that I’m the only one who’s allowed to mess it all up just because I want to._

 

Peter sat at the end of the couch, knees to his chest, trying to take up as little space as possible. Just like the actions of the other three, this was nothing new for him. He sat, watching his three best friends in the world, but not listening to anything that any of them might be saying. He could just remember the letter he’d gotten from his father at breakfast. He was being ordered home for some special party or meeting or something. His father had been rather vague, but he was used to that by now. He came back to the present just in time to see Sirius’ foot fall from where it had been propped up against the back of the couch, and hear James huff out his indignation at the fact that his best friend had fallen asleep in the middle of their conversation. Sirius would always be more important to James than Peter or Remus were. And Remus and Sirius would always be more important to each other than anyone else. And Peter was left just on the outside of all that. But it was alright. They were still his mates. Still his best friends. And he was happy with things just the way they were.

 

*****

 

November 1981

Godric’s Hollow

It was mid November and had just finished snowing in Godric’s Hollow. Green grass was still able to poke through the white that had slowly accumulated over the last day, but within a few weeks, all traces of summer and fresh, green grass would be enveloped by cold, white snow. Someone, though no one may ever know exactly who, had been by recently and left a bouquet of red and yellow lilies at the simplest headstone in the cemetery. The slab of concrete read:

James Potter

1960-1981

Lily Evans Potter

1960-1981

As far as anyone in all of Godric’s Hollow knew, no one had been by to visit that grave since the poor young couple had been quietly buried there a few weeks ago. As far as anyone knew, the Potters had no one alive _to_ visit them. At least, no one who _would_. The silence in the small graveyard would be deafening, had there been anyone around to listen to it.

 

Azkaban cell #XY390

Sirius sighed and sat up. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he laid his forehead against them, allowing his long, mangy hair to fall towards the floor. He’d never been this cold in his life, and no matter how hard he tried, he could do nothing to warm himself. Even as Padfoot, his fur did nothing to thaw him. Not that the cold concrete against his bare feet and his barely clothed back was any help. He was trying as hard as possible to ignore the small window that looked out over the water surrounding his prison. He was lucky, someone had once told him. Not every inmate had a cell that allowed them to see a bit of the outside world. But he didn’t feel lucky. That window just made it harder to ignore the moon that seemed to be glaring at him from the night sky. If the _Prophet_ he’d managed to steal a few days ago was current, the full moon was tomorrow night. And he won’t be where he needs to be. He won’t be with Moony, playing and fighting and wearing themselves out in the woods. Neither will Wor…Neither will Prongs. Remus will spend the full moon alone for the first time since fifth year. And it was all Sirius’ fault. And he was so cold.

 

A cottage in the middle of nowhere

Remus was too far off in his own world to even realize that the owl had dropped off his morning _Prophet_ and left without so much as a squawk or a snapped beak. His head sat in his hands and a mostly-empty bottle of Firewhisky balanced precariously at the edge of the kitchen table. He was too focused on the same thing he’d been obsessing over for weeks now to notice anything else going on. Everything was so different now than it had been less than a month ago. His best friends in the world, the only people in his world were all gone. James and Lily had been turned in to Voldemort and murdered. Peter had been blown up.  And Sirius, his Sirius…well, he wasn’t _his_ Sirius anymore. He was a murderer. That was the worst part of all this. It was Remus’ fault. He knew Sirius better than anyone. He was the only one who got to see inside Sirius’ head. He should have seen that his…that Sirius was a murderer. And now there was nothing left for him. He reached for the Firewhisky again wondering if he could manage to stay drunk until the full tomorrow night. Maybe a drunk werewolf would just rip itself to shreds and he could be done with it.

 

The Burrow, just outside Ottery St. Catchpole

Wormtail sat in a basket on the desk, head on his paws, trying to take up as little space as possible. He continued to watch the nine members of the ridiculously red-haired family who owned the house argue over him, but he was barely paying attention. He could only think of his master, who had accepted him so readily when he was willing to give him the information he wanted. But now it was all over. James and Lily were dead, Sirius was in prison, Peter Pettigrew was dead as far as anyone (even Wormtail himself) was concerned, and the Dark Lord was nowhere to be found. People believed the man was dead, but Wormtail didn’t have that luxury. He had to trust that his master was out there somewhere just biding his time.  Because without that hope, Wormtail really had nothing. He’d betrayed his best friends, effectively killed some of them, all for his master. So Wormtail had to have faith that his master would find him again.  Until then, he would bide his time with this family of blood traitors (because no one would think to look for him with people like them, would they?) pretending to be a common garden rat and trying to kill that small part inside of him that still felt bad about what he’d done.


End file.
